<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Regret by SuicideInABottle</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135973">Regret</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuicideInABottle/pseuds/SuicideInABottle'>SuicideInABottle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Prince of Egypt (1998)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:29:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuicideInABottle/pseuds/SuicideInABottle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Moses in the aftermath of the Killing of The First Born.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>a lie strong and settled</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Regret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It is not until he makes his way home that the weight of what he’s been forced to do brings him to his knees. It crushes the breath from his lungs, leaves him feeling hollow and broken, twists his insides into a mass of writhing snakes that will not be calmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so he crumples, sliding down a worn wall at his back and he meets the ground, curling up like the child he has not been in longer than he can remember. Tears trail his cheeks and he sobs for himself, for Ramses, but most of all for the children taken; for his...oh gods Ramses’ son is dead, crossed over to the other side. How is he meant to live with this? He’s killed so many, dozen of children, the boy that would have been his nephew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought freezes him, ice flooding his body and arresting his soul. Clarity strikes and for a moment his sobs cease. Just for one though. Then they begin anew and curses the gods, all of them, the fates, destiny. He curses the day he found out who he truly was, curses the current that brought him to his mother and everything in between that led them down this path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to draw in breath, to calm himself. He has to get up, his mission is yet unfinished, he still has to lead his people out of the city. Ramses has finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>yielded</span>
  </em>
  <span>, finally let them </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he needs to </span>
  <b>
    <em>get up. </em>
  </b>
  <span>There are plans that need to be made, supplies that must be gathered, belongings to pack, he is wasting time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered his own nephew</span>
  </em>
  <span> in order to free his people-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soundless gasp wet and wounded erupts from him as he trembles. He’s been made to savage one set of people to free another. He has raged a one sided war against Ramses, whom he’s known since he was a babe. Ramses, his once brother (for he truly has no right to call him that now) and best friend. He’s torn himself apart,  been made a monster and a murderer to the masses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hates it, all of it, he’s done so many terrible things. He wonders, in passing, if he has tears enough for how sincerely sorry he is. Then he berates himself for the thought, he hasn’t the right to cry. He hasn’t suffered nearly as much as the people of the city have in the aftermath of the night. Hasn’t lost nearly as much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has lost things, things he can never get back. But now is not the time for that, he’s given himself too much time for tears he doesn't deserve to shed. So he stands, gathering himself. His legs do not want to support his weight. They shake, all of him does with exhaustion and the burden of what has transpired. He is so tired and weary. He hurts in more ways than he ever thought possible to. His head tilts back meeting the wall and a few stray tears escape red rimmed eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps, trying to calm the thundering in his ears and the racing of his heart. His gaze slides sideways to his staff. He doesn’t want it, hasn't since he started performing miracles with it. But it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> and there is no one else. He picks it up, it slots into his grasp the way it always has. Shivers rack his frame. He sheds another tear, he hates it and all that it represents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a step, shaky and uncertain, then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staff steadies him with every foot fall forward, he must finish this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of this was ever what he wanted.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This wasn't what I'd intended to be the first thing I posted here but here we are. I've been having a lot of feelings about The Prince of Egypt the last two or three days, specifically about Moses and Ramses relationship and the wedge that was driven between them. It just, really could've been different and I'm so sad for them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>